Friday, August 29, 2014

Robert's last day at the mill

Yesterday on FB I posted One Day More from Les Mis.  Today I posted Seize the Day from Newsies.  I've been weepy all day, hard to stop...worst part, I don' t know why.  All the kids are coming in for the big weekend.  It's gonna be bedlam and loud and wonderful and I hope our hot water holds out.  Wish we had our tankless one from 809 (and you know that it's what we will install when the current one dies).  I finally got my tears to stop.  But just now James Wells, from Elyria/Grafton added a note to the FB post...He hoed to the end of the row.  I knew what he meant and now ill post the poem because it is Robert...and it is James.

Bill Brown made a million,
Bill Brown, think of that.
That boy you remember,
As poor as a rat.
He hoed for the neighbors,
Did jobs by the day.
And Bill made a million,
Or near it they say.
He worked for my father,
You'll maybe recall.
He wasn't a wonder,
Not that, not at all.
He couldn't out-hoe me,
Or cover more ground,
Or hoe any faster,
Or beat me around.
In fact, I was better
In one way that I know.
One toot from the kitchen
And home I would go.
But Bill Brown always hoed
To the end of the row.
We used to get hungry
Out there in the corn.
You talk about music,
What equals a horn?
A horn yellin' dinner,
And tomatoes and beans,
And pork and potatoes,
And gravy and greens.
I ain't blamin' no one
For quittin' on time.
To quit with the whistle,
That ain't any crime.
But as for the million,
Well, this much I know.
Bill Brown always hoed
To the end of the row.

I hope both Robert and James have many more rows to hoe.  I'll be posting more as Robert gets home.  But for now...Hoe to the end of the row.

No comments:

email updates

Enter your email address:

Delivered by FeedBurner